


Now Playing: Picnic on the Roof

by LunaCascabel



Category: The Last Kids on Earth (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24750661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaCascabel/pseuds/LunaCascabel
Summary: Sometimes you just have to slow down. Even at the end of the world. And what better way to relax than to have a dinner date on the most peaceful day in Wakefield so far?Or not.Fighting zombies with your boyfriend is still a date, right?
Relationships: Jack Sullivan/Quint Baker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	Now Playing: Picnic on the Roof

The sun was setting over Wakefield, giving the world a golden glow. It was quiet, as quiet as it could be during the zombie-monster apocalypse, the distant groans of zombies creating strangely pleasant white noise. This comfortable semi-silence had seemed to reach even Joe’s Pizza, as the regular rabble of the joint, with no battle stories of the day left to tell, had begun to wind down. June was sharpening her makeshift-spear out of boredom as she bobbed along to some teen hit flowing through her headphones and Dirk murmured softly to the heirloom tomatoes in his garden, telling them about the peaceful day. However, not everyone was enjoying this strange calm. Loud whispers rose from the base of the treehouse.

“It’s irresponsible, Jack!” Quint scolded.

“We’re seventh graders, Quint — or we were, anyway — we don’t need to be responsible,” Jack laughed and slung another bag onto Rover’s saddle. Rover was currently sunbathing in the fleeting light of the day, and therefore paying no attention to Jack’s endeavours. 

Quint raised an eyebrow, “Even at the end of the world?”

Conceding the point, Jack knelt down next to Rover to urge him out of his slothful state. “Ok,” he said, “so we have a few responsibilities. However—” he continued before Quint could celebrate his victory, “weren’t you trying to set the high score on all of the games we own just, like, an hour ago?”

Quint flushed and shoved his hands into his lab coat pockets. “Well, yes, I– That is…” he stammered. He glanced around nervously, gaze landing on Jack’s amused face. “Oh, you!” Quint exclaimed. “That was different. I remained within the safety of the treehouse the entire time.”

“Let me guess,” said Jack, walking behind Quint in order to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist, “you’re going to lecture me on my tendency to ‘go off on my own’ because something bad always happens.” Quint stayed stiff and silent in Jack’s embrace, purposefully avoiding his eyes as the latter spoke into his ear. “Well, then,” Jack murmured, resting his head on Quint’s shoulders and twisting it to see Quint’s face, “I guess it’s a good thing I won’t be alone.”

Quint turned away, his face as red as it could be with his dark skin. “I suppose that is… acceptable. But you must inform our friends that we are leaving. And tell me where we will be going!”

Jack beamed and gave Quint a quick peck on his burning cheek before bounding away onto Rover’s saddle, “Relax, Rocket Man! No zombies or monsters in sight, we’ll be fine. Plus, I already told June we were leaving.”

Quint nodded and hoisted himself onto the saddle, “And our destination?”

Jack grinned as he spurred Rover into motion, “It’s a surprise.”

* * *

They came to a stop in the Historic Wakefield District, dismounting onto the roof of the abandoned ABC Theatre.

“The movie theatre?” Quint asked. “But Jack, nothing will be playing.”

Jack rolled his eyes as he unloaded the bags he’d packed. “I know that,” he huffed, “just trust me, okay?”

Quint nodded reluctantly.

“Good. Close your eyes.” 

He did.

There was a rustling sound as Jack prepared the area. A soft THUMP shook the building, indicating that Rover had laid down for a rest. 

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”

The ground before him had been covered in an old blanket, probably stolen from one of the rooms of the Robinson house. On top of it were two paper plates, a plastic container filled with a fancy-looking pasta dish, and two bottles of blue Gatorade. Jack was seated by one of the plates fidgeting nervously with a pair of metal tongs.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful, Jack,” said Quint as he made his way over to Jack. “Did you make all of this? When did you learn to cook?”

“Yeah, I did! I used some of Dirk’s vegetables but he didn’t have any garlic, sorry.” Jack neatly sidestepped the second question and Quint let him, but made a mental note to ask again some other time.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, dear. While I probably wouldn’t have believed you if you had told me you could cook, I promise the food looks amazing.”

Jack laughed in relief, “Even the gatorade?” 

Quint gently took Jack’s hand and smiled, “Yes, even the gatorade.”

They enjoyed their meals in a comfortable silence, but it was soon broken by a loud screech overhead.

Above them flew a swarm of winged wretches, circling their romantic picnic like untiring buzzards waiting for their prey to perish. However, unlike the vicious carrion-birds, the wretches were much less particular about their meals, a beating heart was of no consequence so long as the hunt ended without injury. Looking up, Jack and Quint knew the monsters would take them dead or alive.

Unless given reason to abandon them, that is.

“Hey Quint,” Jack turned to his boyfriend, backing away from the wretches as he spoke, “did you bring a weapon?”

“Of course!” said Quint, irritated. “It would be irresponsible to go out without one.” He shot Jack a pointed look.

Jack huffed a laugh, “Yeah, I know. I brought the Slicer.” He pulled the beloved blade from the bag he’d stashed it in and raised it in anticipation. “But I can’t take on six winged wretches! Louisville Slicer or not.”

“Well then, consider yourself fortunate that you are not the only one fighting,” Quint said, amused as he pulled his slingshot from his coat.

Jack sighed in relief and shuffled around Quint, standing back to back with him as the wretches began their descent. “A ranged weapon! Sweet! How much ammo do you have?” He felt Quint shift uncomfortably against him. He stayed silent as he took aim, calculating the trajectories of his shots and the flying monsters in his head. Both rounds hit their mark, exploding on impact and blinding their target, likely permanently.

“Quint?” Jack asked nervously.

“Ten shots.”

“TEN?” They ducked under the swoop of one of the four remaining wretches. Jack swung his bat in sync with the monster’s attack, catching it in the foot as it flew past. It wasn’t nearly sharp enough to take it off but the wood left a nasty gash, its unrefined edge filling the wound with splinters.

“You said yourself that it had been peaceful recently!” Quint defended, “We were expecting little to no resistance, remember? You would not have convinced me otherwise!”

“That doesn’t mean come practically unarmed!” shouted Jack, jabbing at another wretch that came to close as it flew away from Quint’s carefully placed shots.

Quint and Jack switched spots, moving slowly towards their meal again, completely in sync in spite of their bickering. Jack defended Quint as the darker boy turned his back on their opponents. “Ten shots is nothing, Quint! It doesn’t even make bare minimum,” he scolded. Quint’s face flushed unnoticeably. He would never admit that he thought that Jack would be able to handle whatever minimal resistance they came upon. He picked up the unopened container carefully and placed it next to the gatorades he’d just stashed, quickly sliding in the paper plates and utensils. Fighting alongside Jack was always exhilarating, he thought. It filled him with a rush of power that sat comfortably in his chest, feeling like a familiar chunk of heart had decided to kick into action again. But it wasn’t tempting or addictive. It was easy. Enjoyable. 

Battling with Jack was like huddling together in front of a dimmed screen, mashing buttons and moving like a well-oiled machine, feeding each other chips and popcorn without missing a step.

This didn’t mean, however, that Quint didn’t enjoy Jack’s protective tendencies from time to time. They’d been part of the attraction. Yes, he could get overbearing, but something about Jack’s intensity made him feel safe around him, regardless of the situation. Even before the apocalypse, Jack had been the one to fight the older students that harassed him for ‘homework help’ in their failing classes. Despite the irritation that Quint felt, or the fact that Jack rarely won and always wound up in detention, Quint was always secure in the fact that his best friend, his boyfriend, would always try to protect him. Perhaps this was why he had been lax in his preparations for the date. Around Jack, they simply didn’t feel necessary.


End file.
